The Goal

Today, I’m keeping it.

23

Sabrina

I lie in wait outside Tucker’s eleven o’clock class. Rather than ask him when we could meet up, I stalked him online and found a post on the Briar YikYak that had all of the players’ schedules. That’s not creepy.

As students stream out of the ivy-covered building, I recognize maybe one in thirty, if that. My time at Briar is coming to the end, and I don’t have much to show for it. Some kids graduate with a raft of friends that they carry into their postgraduate life. Me? I’ve got my degree, Carin, and Hope. And now a baby. I guess the baby outweighs the entire sisterhood of a sorority.

Tucker strolls out with Garrett Graham. They’re both gorgeous, but Tucker is the one who commands my attention. Not that Graham isn’t good-looking, but Tucker’s all I see. He shaved his beard. I don’t know how I feel about that—I liked the beard—but I can’t deny that his clean-shaven face is equally appealing. He’s got a dimple in his chin that was hidden by all the scruff. God, I want to explore that dimple with my tongue.

The rest of him is equally tempting. He’s wearing a tight, long-sleeve knit shirt with one corner tucked into the side of his jeans. A pair of sunglasses is perched on the top of his auburn head, which is thrown back as he laughs at something Graham is murmuring out of the corner of his mouth. Behind them trails a line of hungry girls who desperately want the attention of these guys. But they’re both more interested in exchanging quips than scoping out the women.

A flutter of relief washes over me. Since the night at the hotel, we haven’t slept together. There was the pregnancy discovery and then Beau’s death and then Beau’s memorial and then…nothing really. My head hasn’t been in a good place since New Year’s.

I bite my lip. I didn’t want to drag him down with me, but that’s exactly what I’m doing.

He cuts off mid-chuckle when his eyes land on me. His lips move, saying something like, “I’ll see you later, man. I’ve got something to take care of.”

Garrett’s gaze swings toward me, and he probably says, “She’s going to suck your soul out. Stay away from her.”

Tucker’s lips curve up. He’s either replying that he can handle me or likes the way I suck or maybe even, “Too late.” As he saunters toward me, Garrett’s glare moves from Tucker’s back to my face.

I smile wide, showing a little teeth.

“You’re avoiding me,” Tucker murmurs when he reaches me.

I switch my attention to him, tuning out Garrett, the adoring girls, and the rest of our classmates. They’re a distraction and I owe it to Tucker to be focused.

“I’ve had a lot on my mind,” I admit.

“Yeah. Me too.”

When he quirks up an eyebrow, I tilt my head toward the crowd. “Got a moment?”

“For you, always.”

My heart squeezes. I’ve been AWOL for weeks and he still finds a way to look at me like I’m the only girl in his orbit. I don’t fucking deserve him.

He takes my elbow and I follow him toward a row of benches along the quad. “You seeing anyone?” I ask in the most casual voice I can muster.

He stops so abruptly that I nearly take a header on the cobblestones. He hauls me upright, planting both hands on my shoulders to orient me so I’m facing him.

“Are you kidding me with that?”

“You stopped texting me.” I hate the uncertainty in my voice.

His expression softens. “I’ve been giving you space.”

I force a shrug. “It’d be okay if you were.”

A muscle in his jaw jumps, and the grip around my shoulders grows uncomfortably tight. Okay. I pegged that one wrong.

Finally, he sighs and pulls his sunglasses on. “No, I’m not seeing anyone.” Under his breath, I hear him mutter, “Apparently not even you.”

“I’m sorry,” I blurt out. “It wasn’t meant to be an insult. I just wanted you to know that this—” I wave my fingers in a circle around my belly “—shouldn’t be holding you back.”

His features tense again. “I need some food before we continue this conversation. Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere private.” He doesn’t break stride even as he redirects us from the lecture hall toward the parking lot behind the building.

A number of people wave to him as we pass, but he doesn’t stop for any of them, nor does he talk to me. When we reach his pickup, he nudges me into the passenger side and then stares expectantly at me.

“What?” I mutter.

“Seatbelt.”

“I’ll do it when you get in the truck.”

“Now.”

“Is this because I asked if you were seeing anyone?”

The jaw muscle moves again. “No. It’s because you’re pregnant.” An eyebrow creeps above the rim of his sunglasses. “You still are, right?”

I flush. But I guess I deserved that. “Yes. I wouldn’t do anything without telling you first.”

“Good. Buckle your seatbelt.”

I do as he orders because it’s obvious we’re not moving an inch until he hears the click. Then I hold my hands out and say, “Okay?”

He nods and shuts the door.

We don’t say a word as he starts the truck and leaves the lot. He drives us about three miles away, where we pull to a stop in front of a small outdoor rink. The ice is melted, and instead of skaters, the rink is filled with picnic tables. Only a few people, none of them students, occupy the tables.

“Why don’t you grab a seat?” Tucker says as he helps me get out of the car. “Want anything to eat? Drink?”

“I’ll take a water.”

He heads off to the concession stand while I claim a table in the far corner, situating myself so I can watch Tucker stride across the pavement.

If I had to choose the father of my child, I couldn’t have done better than John Tucker. He’s gorgeous, tall, athletically gifted and smart. But most of all, he’s decent. No matter what happens in the future, he’ll never turn away from his kid. He’ll never make him or her feel unwanted. He’ll never threaten his or her life in any way. No matter what happens—even if I screw up, and I know I will—Tucker will be there to clean up my mess.